Eight Hundred Thousand Dollars and a Missing Name on a Ledger

concrete and old oil.

I paid fifty-five dollars to the automated machine at the exit, the ticket slipping into the slot with a sharp mechanical click.

My Buick was parked near the concrete pillar marked 3B, its silver paint covered in a thin layer of city dust.

I opened the trunk and set the cardboard box between a spare tire and a set continue reading …